It is beautiful.
It is ugly.
It makes us sick.
It robs our soul of its ability to be rational.
It inspires us.
It provides us the ability to accomplish anything so long as it impresses.
It can make us lose weight.
It motivates us to consume immeasurable substances when it leaves us to numb the pain left behind from its departure.
It inspires us to write things we never imagined possible.
It can haunt our dreams and keep us safe during the nightmares.
It cannot be quantified.
It can and will be used for good and evil.
It shouldn’t be defined.
It provides us with the strength to get out of bed.
It robs us of strengths we would use to get out of bed.
It harms us.
It protects us.
It fills us while also being capable of leaving us empty.
It cannot be taught.
It cannot be bargained with.
It does not care about you.
It is limitless.
It is truly an infinite abyss.
Both light and shadow
are the dance of Love.
Love has no cause;
it is the astrolabe of God’s secrets.
Lover and Loving are inseparable
Although I may try to describe Love
when I experience it I am speechless.
Although I may try to write about Love
I am rendered helpless;
my pen breaks and the paper slips away
at the ineffable place
where Lover, Loving and Loved are one.
Every moment is made glorious
by the light of Love.
Never trust a white man,
Never **** a Jew,
Never sign a contract,
Never rent a pew.
Don't enlist in armies;
Nor marry many wives;
Never write for magazines;
Never scratch your hives.
Always put paper on the seat,
Don't believe in wars,
Keep yourself both clean and neat,
Never marry ******.
Never pay a blackmailer,
Never go to law,
Never trust a publisher,
Or you'll sleep on straw.
All your friends will leave you
All your friends will die
So lead a clean and wholesome life
And join them in the sky.
Tears shed from the soul. Her body pleading for acceptance. The beauty she possesses yearns to be touched ever so delicately, with longing and passion. Her mind refusing to acknowledge even a miniscule sliver of life, which may contain anything, resembling something other than the love she deserves.
A stranger observes from afar. His passion for life diminished by the minds inability to allow its soul the pleasure of being touched by something truly beautiful. As he watches her beauty and elegance dance with childlike innocence through the night air, his soul begins to shed tears. He approaches her and his heart cannot deny the beauty which is she. Her ambrosial smile and delicate laughter pull the two together and they delicately embrace, hands trembling.
He touches her nervously but precisely on the face as their eyes meet. Within the stare, they find comfort, acceptance, and passion. He delicately places a soft, gentle kiss on her face. She feels tears trickle to her cheek from his…Tears shed from the soul. -Dennis Frasier
— The End —